


My Dearest, Please

by really_damn_tired



Category: Alexander Hamilton - Ron Chernow, American Revolution RPF
Genre: Angst, Canon Era, F/M, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Past Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens, Suicide Notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:41:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29204517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/really_damn_tired/pseuds/really_damn_tired
Summary: Eliza didn’t think much of it at first. A letter from John Laurens to her husband. It wasn’t the first but she was sure it wouldn't be the last. The way she saw it, letters from Laurens were like coin flips. Sometimes after they came, her husband would be happy and would take a break from his work to spend some time with his family. Other times, he wouldn’t speak for hours, doing nothing but writing. Those nights, Eliza would find Alexander in his study, holding a letter near a flame, biting his lip in thought.That changed with this letter however.
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/Elizabeth "Eliza" Schuyler, Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens, Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens/Elizabeth "Eliza" Schuyler
Comments: 7
Kudos: 18





	My Dearest, Please

**Author's Note:**

> TW/CW: Implied depression, description of depression, child, breakdown, death, suicide, suicide note, homophobia, toxic relationship, blood, implied sex, implied ghosts, corpse mention  
> \---  
> Based on a headcanon of mine that after Laurens’ death, Hamilton had a breakdown and basically begged Eliza to not leave him, I have no evidence of this I just think it’s cool and an explanation for why she didn’t leave him after he confessed to having an affair. Laurens probably didnt send an explicit suicide letter to Ham and Ham probably didn’t beg his wife to never leave him but I like this idea anyway, enjoy! 
> 
> Also, this is my first publication on here so I'm still not sure how to italics and stuff :)

Eliza didn’t think much of it at first. A letter from John Laurens to her husband. It wasn’t the first but she was sure it wouldn't be the last. The way she saw it, letters from Laurens were like coin flips. Sometimes after they came, her husband would be happy and would take a break from his work to spend some time with his family. Other times, he wouldn’t speak for hours, doing nothing but writing. Those nights, Eliza would find Alexander in his study, holding a letter near a flame, biting his lip in thought.

“My dear, are you alright?” she would say. Alexander would jump slightly and turn to his wife, before looking back at the letter, then the flame. He would fold the letter, put it in a drawer, pick the small candlestick up and move over to Eliza.

“I am now, my love,” he would say with a small smile. Most of the time it wasn’t in his eyes, but Eliza knew he was trying.

“Then come to bed, there is no use in staying up for no reason” and he would. Those nights Hamilton would hold his wife so tightly, Eliza worried for him. It wasn’t like most nights when he would simply hold her for comfort or love: it was as if he were worried she would slip through his fingers like sand. Even if Alexander never told her, she knew it had something to do with those letters from Laurens. They could make or break his entire day and she longed to know what in those letters was so important. Despite this, she wouldn’t. She knew that if Alexander ever wanted to tell her, he would; for now she would respect his privacy and let him work through it on his own, and if he ever needed her, she would be there.

That changed with this letter however.

It came, she thanked the man who delivered it, and called her husband downstairs to come and get it.

“It’s from John Laurens!” she shouted, before throwing it on the dining table and going into Philip’s nursery. 

\---

Hours passed and soon, Eliza was putting her son to sleep

“Good night, my child,” she whispered.

“Nahn nah,” the small boy mumbled, causing Eliza to smile wider. She gently stroked her son’s hair before, kissing his forehead and walking out, closing the door with a quiet click. Only then she realised that she had barely seen her husband all day.

He must just be busy, she thought, or it’s…, she remembered the letter from earlier and frowned slightly.

Taking a deep breath, Eliza started the search for her husband. She checked the drawing room, the dining room, and their bedroom before hearing soft sobs from her husband’s study. Sensing the worst, she crept up to the door and pressed her ear to it. Behind it, she could hear Alexander crying and mumbling incoherently.

“No, no… Jack, my dear…let this be wrong… can’t be dead.” Every few seconds he would stop, before a rustling of paper, then he would sob harder than before. A million things raced through Eliza’s head as she opened the door but they all vanished as she looked at her husband. His hair was hanging loose and wild; as if he’d been running his hands through it, his face was bright red and his eyes were puffy and wide. Tears were falling down his face as he read the paper in his hand over and over again. Eliza’d never seen Alexander like this. She’d seen him sad, defeated, happy, angry and everything in between, but she’d never seen him like this. At first glance, he looked sad but in a crazed way, though as Eliza looked further she saw anger, hate, despair, disbelief and something she thought she’d never see: defeat.

“Alexander,” she said, her voice low and filled with concern. Alexander jumped and turned to his wife. For a few seconds, he froze and Eliza saw something else: fear. “My dear, are you alright?” she asked, scared a little herself. She started to move closer but her husband beat her to it. He wrapped his thin arms around her and buried his head in her shoulder before sobbing again. He was louder this time and Eliza wrapped her arms around him.

“I’m sorry, I-” he started

“Don’t be sorry, my love, it’s alright to feel sad,” she assured him. At this, Alexander’s knees gave way and he and his wife sank to the ground. Eliza moved her husband’s head to rest on her chest and she began stroking his hair. They stayed like that for a while: Alexander listening to Eliza’s heartbeat, a gentle reminder that she was there, and she wasn’t going anywhere. Eliza stroking her husband’s hair, her mother’s way of calming her down.

After some time, she broke the silence with a song. When she was young and her or one of her siblings were frustrated or sad, her mother would pull them into her lap, and sing a soft Dutch lullaby; she hoped that the same would work for her husband.

At first, he tensed, but he slowly relaxed and curled up closer to Eliza. She looked down and saw the letter crumpled up in his hand. Squinting, she tried to read it, but struggled because of the darkness. What she did see however, was dried blood. Still singing, she knitted her brow, thinking.

Why does it have blood on it? Did they find it on his corpse? Why was there a letter on his corpse?

A yawn from Alexander broke her thoughts.

“We should go to bed, my love, it’s more comfortable than out here,” she smiled slightly, cupping her love’s face in her hand. He only nodded in response. “Come, Alexander.” He moved to stand up with a small sigh, stalling slightly. Eliza simply smiled, “Take your time,” she said holding his hand. He looked into her eyes and smiled; it was genuine. The two stood up and started to move to their bedroom, Alexander leaning on his wife slightly.

Eliza opened her mouth to speak, but thought better as she felt Alexander tense up. Instead she kissed his forehead. They reached the bedroom and sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?” Eliza asked. She wasn't sure what happened, but she knew she needed to be careful.

After Alexander didn’t respond, she turned and saw his violet blue eyes were glassy and tears were close to falling. 

“Take your time, my dear,” she assured him.

“You remember Laurens, yes?’’ He mumbled, still not quite looking at Eliza. She nodded slowly. “He died last week.”

She gasped. Suddenly, her husband’s anguish made a lot more sense. She knew that the two were close, quite how close she wasn’t sure, but they were close nonetheless. A sniffle came from Alexander, and she looked to see tears spilling again. Barely thinking, she wrapped her arms around him and let him dig his head into her shoulder and cry. They stayed there, the only sounds being Alexander’s sobs, and like earlier, everytime Eliza moved, Alexander would grab her tighter. Slowly, his sobs stopped and he whispered:

“Betsey, my dearest, please… don’t leave me. No matter what I do, no matter what I say, no matter what stupid mistakes I make,” he pulled back to look into Eliza’s eyes, “please don’t leave me.”

Eliza had a lot of questions, but she was sure they could wait. For now she simply assured him.

“I won’t, my love, I promise,” she smiled again, which Alexander mirrored, before leaning in for a kiss. It wasn’t lustful, it was softer: another reassurance. Unfortunately, it was broken by a scream. Eliza pulled back, “I’ll go and tend to Philip, my dear, you change and get some rest.” If somewhat reluctantly, her husband nodded and moved back as she stood up and walked towards the door.

“Betsey, my angel!” Alexander said softly, Eliza turned, “I love you”. He smiled, but it was slightly pained. Eliza barely noticed in the darkness.

“I love you too, my dear” and she closed the door.

\---

After tending to Philip, Eliza had an idea. It would go against her own promise to herself, but she needed to know what in that letter, she needed to know what broke her husband so deeply for him to beg her to never leave him. Instead of walking into her bedroom, she waited to hear her husband’s soft snoring.

Eventually, it came and Eliza contemplated if she really wanted to do this. Was knowing what that letter said really that important? Yes, she told herself, it’s the only way of me knowing why he’s so upset. She slowly snuck back to her husband’s office and pushed open the door.

The candle was still alight, giving the room a slight orange tinge but shadows still hid in the corners. She looked around and saw the letter on the floor, next to her foot. Shaking slightly, she picked it up and moved to sit in her husband’s chair, next to the flame and began to read.

\---

_26th August 1782  
My Dearest Hamilton,  
As much as it pains me to write this, this letter will be my last. And if all goes well, you shan’t receive it, however, I am going to write this regardless. I love you, my dear boy, I love you the way you love your wife, and the way I should love mine. I hold you dearer than any other and it pains me that the same is not true for you. Unlike me, you have the privilege of a wife and child you love whereas I have a child born of hatred and a wife married out of pressure. I didn’t tell you of her because I feared that you would reject any relationship we had. However, I am not the only one guilty of this as you didn’t tell of Miss Schuyler until after your engagement. I have asked you before and I shall ask you again, did you think I would be less devoted than I am now? Or did you think yourself less devoted to me?  
You know well of my feelings of hopelessness and despair, and you know that I had hope to move past it. I suppose it’s obvious that I cannot. I cannot live knowing that you’re still clinging to me… or at least the memory of me. I cannot live knowing that you can live a better life without me. I cannot live knowing all of the risks that we may take as we go forward with our lives.  
I will cherish you despite this. As I die, I shall think of you. I shall think of stolen moments in our bedroom or our office or our tent. I shall think of your lips on mine. I shall think of how your body feels against mine. I shall think of your voice whispering sweet words of promise in my ears. I won’t think of how empty these promises were.  
After you hear of my death, move on with your life, please. Don’t think about me. Don’t think about what you could have done to stop this. Remember me, yes; but don’t worry about me. Don’t lose sleep thinking about me. Live your life. Love your wife and cherish your children.  
Alexander, my dearest, please, listen to me. I don’t want you to read this, but I suppose part of me hopes you get the message.  
This shall be my final Adieu, my love. Please remember how much I love you, my dear boy, and I hope you continue to live a full life, and I hope you know how dearly I hold you to my art and how my sentiments and affections are unalterable.  
Your lover and closest friend,  
Jack Laurens _  
__

__\---_ _

__“Mother!” said a voice from behind her. “Mother, are you in here?” John Hamilton asked as he walked into the room. “Ah, there you are, did you find anything?”_ _

__Eliza thought for a moment._ _

__“No.” she folded the letter and turned to her son, “no, I didn’t find anything”_ _

__“Mother, you’re holding a letter, I can see it,” he really had gotten fed up with his mother’s… attitude lately._ _

__“Yes, but I didn’t find anything of worth.”_ _

__“Well…” he moved to Eliza, his eyes drifting to the letter in her hand. “Who is that from?” He noticed the blood, it seems._ _

__His mother was a bit more hesitant to answer that. “John Laurens to your father.” She had his attention._ _

__“Why… why is there blood on it?”_ _

__“Why is there blood on what?” Eliza Hamilton Holly walked into the room, “What have you found? Why is there blood on it?” Her questions always reminded her mother of her father, always asking questions, never satisfied._ _

__“It’s from John Laurens,” her brother said bluntly. Eliza’s eyes went wide._ _

__“Oh…” she breathed. John Church had a bit of history with Mr Laurens. A few months prior, he had destroyed evidence of he and his father’s relationship; burning letters from Laurens and editing some of his fathers. Eliza had found these edited letters some days later, one of them had “I must not publish the whole of this” in the corner. Unlike John, who was determined to view his father through rose-tinted shades, Eliza believed in telling the whole truth and accepting her father for all of his faults, something she inherited from her mother. Upon finding the letters, she told her mother about them and they both chastised him for tinting his view of Hamilton, and he promised to call his next child “Laurens” as an apology._ _

__“It’s the last letter from him, he wrote it the day before he died.” Eliza said with a small sigh. John looked up. “I found your father reading it, he looked so defeated and… destroyed. He was never quite the same after that. Laurens’ death broke something in my Alexander.” She chose to omit the romantic relationship._ _

__“Can we read it?” Eliza whispered._ _

__“No.” They looked into her eyes at that. Eliza’s eyes had narrowed, the same way her father’s would when he was confused. “Some things should remain in the past and this memory is… a particularly painful one.” John huffed and walked out. It was clear he had his suspicions, but it was clearer that his mother wouldn’t change her mind on this._ _

__Eliza watched her brother leave before saying anything._ _

__“That’s not the only reason, isn’t it?” she asked, her eyes still narrowed but with a hint of determination._ _

__“It’s a suicide letter.” her mother said. Eliza gasped. “And your father loved him.” She held out the letter for her daughter to read. Her eyes widened as she scanned the letter. Then she looked up to her mother._ _

__“Oh my goddess…” she whispered._ _

__“Don’t tell your brother-”_ _

__“I won’t!” she said quickly. Nodding, she turned to leave. “Mother!” she said as she reached the door._ _

__“Yes, my dear?”_ _

__“I love you.” she smiled._ _

__“I love you too, now go before your brother realises.” So she left. Elizabeth turned back to the box. It was a small wooden chest with metal clips and a small lock. The key usually dangled around her neck along with her wedding ring and a lock of her husband’s hair in a box. She knelt down, pushed it open and looked at the papers inside. There were 3 piles of letters inside them. One wrapped in a dull pink ribbon on the left, one wrapped in a sky blue ribbon on the right, and the last wrapped in a violet blue colour - the same as her Alexander’s eyes. She folded the letter in her hand and then slipped it into the pile with the blue ribbon. It wasn’t the tallest because her son had destroyed most of the letters she intended for that pile, but the letters she managed to save, she cherished. The violet pile was smallest as her son had decided that most of the letters he found were acceptable, but Eliza saved the most… criminalising ones from the fire. Lastly, the pink pile - her letters - was by far the tallest. She refused to let her son look through her letters, no matter how much he protested and begged. Some things should remain as memory and, if she was being completely honest, it felt like an invasion of her privacy. She wanted her memory of Hamilton to be private and she knew she’d seen part of her husband that very few people saw._ _

__As she stood there looking at the letters, she couldn’t help but think of years past. Their marriage, their children, funerals and parties, tears and smiles. Sleepless nights trying to take care of many small children. The tears were falling before she could stop them. She thought of the ways her Alexander’s eyes would glow every time a letter from Laurens came. She thought of the way he lost his words in his final moments. She thought of his fruitless efforts to save their daughter from her eternal childhood. She thought of everything about him: the good and the bad._ _

__She stayed there for some time, wandering down her memory lane. Soon the tears stopped and, though she had no reason and would never admit to it, she was convinced that Hamilton and Laurens were there with her, even if it were only in her memory._ _

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> I'm on instagram at [ Panic At The Everywhere ](https://www.instagram.com/panic._.at.the.everywhere/)
> 
> Again, I'm new to formatting even tho I'm a computing student and I should know how html works-


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